


The Five of Us are Dying

by Arowen12



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: A little bit sorry, Angst, Cancer, Gen, I'm not sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Medical Inaccuracies, Sort of happy ending, The Black Parade, They all die, living with ghosts, the title says it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: Some would gasp, some would cry as they wheeled us in by gurneyGerard blinks and with a swallow answers, “Cancer.”His voice is rough like he’s been smoking cigarettes all his life, which he basically has however short it is. The man nods with a grimace and replies, “That’s rough. Tuberculosis and one shitty weak immune system. I’m Frank, that’s Bob to the left and Ray to the right, and- ““Mikey.”Gerard interrupts with a nod at his brother. Frank grins, a grin too bright for the already washed-out room and asks, “You know him?”“My little brother, I’m Gerard.”“Man, that sucks, really.”
Relationships: Gerard Way & Mikey Way
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	The Five of Us are Dying

**Author's Note:**

> They're back! I hope you all got to see the reunion show if not the full concert is up on Youtube. Anyways, I’m sorry. Okay I’m only a little bit sorry. This fic is hugely inspired by The Five of Us Are Dying and Kill All Your Friends off of Living with Ghosts, which if you haven’t listened to you should. Also, I have zero actual medical knowledge please forgive me for any inaccuracies. I don’t hate Mikey by the way, this was just how it had to be written, nor do I particularly like Bob. Once again sorry read on and enjoy.

X

_Some would gasp, some would cry as they wheeled us in by gurney_

“So, what are you in for?”

A disembodied voice asks from somewhere to the left as Gerard is wheeled into the room. The ceiling overhead is a pockmarked white, cracked in the corners and off-white in splotchy patches, he focuses on that as the wheels bump and click beneath the bed. The nurse beside his head smiles at him, she has a pretty smile, as the gurney is finally halted against a wall. They go through the movements quickly, the IV, the monitors, the saline drip, his charts, the remote for the bed.

He could stay like this, just staring at the ceiling until its all over.

The nurses leave and its silent, or it should be. But hospitals aren’t silent they’re a cacophony of noise, passing footsteps, the intercom going off at all hours of the day, the beep of countless monitors piling onto each other like a plague of locust. It doesn’t surprise him anymore, how much he hates hospitals. There’s such a stench of death over the place, permeating everything, from the tasteless food to the very air. He could stay like this on his back staring at the ceiling until he dies.

But then the question again.

“Guess you might have missed me earlier, what are you in for?”

Gerard grapples for the remote and fumbles with the buttons for a moment before with a little lurch the hospital bed eases slowly upwards. He stops it at a comfortable incline and stares at the room he’s been dragged into.

There are four other beds, one right beside him, and three across, two windows at one end and the door at the other. In the bed beside him is Mikey, his glasses rest on the table beside him and his hair is hanging in his face, he looks thin all bones and his breathing is calm and even like it never is when he sleeps regularly. Something in Gerard’s chest eases, he had asked to be next to Mikey, but he hadn’t known for certain when they had wheeled him out of the operating room.

Across from him, in the centre of the three beds is a man with a two-toned mohawk, big brown eyes, and a lip ring. He’s grinning at Gerard, arms crossed over his chest with a book in one hand. In the bed on the left there’s a man with shaggy blond hair, a beard, and bandages wrapped around his legs, which are on top of the blanket, he nods once at Gerard and returns to watching the tv in the corner. On the far right, there’s a man with a mop of curly hair, there are bandages around his eyes and they trickle down to his chest and wrap around his hands all the way to the tips of his fingers.

“So?”

The man with the mohawk prompts. Gerard blinks and with a swallow answers, “Cancer.”

His voice is rough like he’s been smoking cigarettes all his life, which he basically has however short it is. The man nods with a grimace and replies, “That’s rough. Tuberculosis and one shitty weak immune system. I’m Frank, that’s Bob to the left and Ray to the right, and- “

“Mikey.”

Gerard interrupts with a nod at his brother. Frank grins, a grin too bright for the already washed-out room and asks, “You know him?”

“My little brother, I’m Gerard.”

“Man, that sucks, really.”

Frank replies and from anyone else it would have sounded insincere but from Frank with his big brown doe eyes, it feels honest. A lump lodges itself in his throat because it does suck, their mom is going to have no one left, not when they’re in this ward, the Way legacy dies with them however pockmarked and rough it is.

“C’mon Bob storytime you’re next.”

Frank says glancing at the blond man, Bob, with a grin bouncing in the gurney and looking for all the world like he doesn’t belong in the terminal ward. But Gerard can see dark bags and a too-thin frame and thinks maybe it makes sense in the worst kind of way.

Bob glares at Frank, a mean glare but Gerard thinks it’s a bit fond. Bob sighs and with a roll of his eyes points at his legs and says, “Got caught in a fire cause of some idiots. Third-degree burns which turned into gangrene and then a blood infection.”

Ouch. Gerard grimaces and his eyes flicker to Bob’s legs, the white bandages, he wonders what its like underneath, veins dark against red skin? Painful probably. Frank frowns and shakes his head as he replies, “Bob, you have to add some pizzazz next time. Okay, what if instead of a fire, we say Godzilla attacked the city and you were the only one able to stop him but at the cost of your legs.”

“No.”

Bob replies and a shock of laughter bursts from Gerard’s lips surprising him. Frank winks at Gerard and flashes a pout at Bob who rolls his eyes and pointedly glances at the tv which is playing an old rerun of some seventies show.

“I personally think the Godzilla touch is the perfect detail.”

Gerard adds with a grin. Frank nods and replies, “Right? Anyway, Ray you’re up.”

The man with the bandages over his eyes, Ray, shifts the mop of his hair ruffling with the motion before his voice breaks the silence, “I was in a plane crash, one of the few survivors,” his voice is high and light, like something you might expect out of like a soprano but Gerard secretly thinks its kind of wicked, Ray continues, “You know I didn’t even expect to survive, it's like a one in a million chance, guess that doesn’t really account for after though.”

Gerard vaguely sees the shrug of his shoulders through the bandages wrapping his chest. Everything is so white in the room there’s no contrast, just washed out skin pigments, grey machinery, and white so much white.

“Hey, at least your plane didn’t disappear.”

Frank interjects playing with the cover of his book. Ray’s head shifts minutely so that Gerard gets the sense he’s looking at Frank and he replies, “I think I would have preferred being abducted by aliens all things considered.”

“Are you sure? What if they’re cannibalistic aliens? Or ones who want to harvest your organs?”

Gerard replies with a grin, glancing at Frank who if possible is grinning even wider. Ray makes a disbelieving sound before he considers it for a moment and replies, “Yeah that’s valid. But what if they were like nice aliens?”

“Vegan aliens.”

Frank says and Gerard can just see him itching to start bouncing. Ray laughs but the sound cuts off quickly into a low groan and Frank’s expression flickers as he adds, “Sorry Toro.”

“It’s fine, need something to liven up the place.”

Ray replies breathless and grips at the sheets. Gerard shivers and tugs the sheets tighter around his chest, He wishes he could have the blankets their grandma knitted, or even the really bad attempts their mom had made.

“So, Gerard, no pressure but do you know what happened to Mikey? They just wheeled him in here one day.”

“Same as the rest of us.”

Bob says with a grunt which gives Gerard a moment to compose himself before he shatters in front of polite company. Gerard nods and glances at Mikey, he watches the rise and fall of his chest for a long moment before he says quietly, “He came back from the war and like a lot of soldiers developed an addiction to pills. He had an overdose.”

The words are bitter on his tongue, hard to swallow and he wants to spit them back out so that maybe he won’t have to acknowledge them. But he has to.

The atmosphere becomes heavy as the last words leave his lips and Gerard tucks his knees to his chest and huddles in on himself. He wants to reach out or maybe have someone reach out for him but he can’t and there’s no one nearby except for Mikey.

Words bubble on his tongue, Gerard’s fingers itch for a pen or paper maybe to write something down but there’s nothing just the five of them dying and he knows that nothing is leaving that room, not their words, not their lives.

“He joined just so we could pay for chemo. It was going good for a while, then I relapsed.”

“Gerard, I’m really sorry.”

Ray says and again anyone else it would have been a pity party but Gerard’s pretty sure Ray gets it. He grounds out a choked, “Thanks, I’m sorry too.”

“Man dying sucks.”

Frank says with a gusty sigh. Gerard nods, he can feel the cancer like it’s a tumour burrowing deeper into him, through his organs into the marrow of his bones. Ray huffs a weak laugh and Bob grunts in agreement. Gerard thinks he wouldn’t mind dying here.

The door opens and a nurse pulls in a cart with plates of food. Gerard misses McDonalds. Actually, he misses Starbucks more.

“Yay more bland tasteless food!”

“It’s not that bad Frank.”

Ray protests but he doesn’t sound convinced at all. Gerard shakes his head and adds, “At least its not plane food.”

Frank giggles, a total stoner giggle and he can feel Ray’s invisible glare but it isn’t heavy so Gerard thinks it’s okay. The nurse sighs and shakes her head before stating, “You guys get a casserole tonight and pudding.”

“Fuck yeah I love pudding.”

Frank says with a fist pump. Gerard glances at the four of them, the five of them dying. Yeah, it sucks, the food sucks, the room sucks, but at least he’s not alone.

X

_There’s writing on the ceiling that only I can see and other times, I feel like running home_

“What do you think dying is like?”

Gerard asks staring at the ceiling wondering if that one off-white patch is growing bigger. He feels soggy, Shitty with a capital s, like all his organs are slowly liquefying. He glances at the rest of the room, its late, and the blinds over the windows are drawn, the hospital lights are dim and the shadows play tricks on his eyes.

Ray tilts his head and asks, “What like Heaven and Hell?”

“Kind of?”

Gerard replies with a shrug. He was raised Christian, Frank mentioned that he’s gone to a catholic school. But really the only thing they say in the bible is stuff about eternal happiness and Gerard doesn’t really see the afterlife in that. Maybe he’s going to Hell. It’s hard to tell these days.

“I think our bodies decompose and that’s all.”

Bob comments with a shrug, the tv in the corner casts strange shadows over the plane of his face. Gerard frowns and says, “That’s boring though. There’s gotta be something else right? It's so weird if we spend all this time and it isn’t used for something.”

“Yeah, but does it have to be used for something? Heaven and Hell are kind of redundant then cause your soul just chills or gets tortured for eternity.”

Frank chimes in with a hum he’s also staring at the ceiling but his head swivels to stare at Gerard, his eyes kind of glow in the sepia tones of the hospital at night. Gerard frowns and considers it. It just feels like a waste if whatever they’ve done in their lives amounts to nothing. Maybe that’s the point though, you have to use the time you have because there’s nothing after. Or maybe there just isn’t a point. Sometimes things don’t have a reason or an answer.

It's depressing as fuck. Gerard shakes his head, nah has to be something else.

“Maybe it's whatever you want it to be? Like if Bob believes he’s going to simply decompose that’s all that will happen, or if you believe you’re going to Heaven or Hell that’s where you’ll go.”

“Great.”

Bob replies with a huff but Gerard can sort of see that he’s grinning at the tv. Ray shifts, his hair captures the light in little ringlets of light, and adds, “That’s a pretty nice way of thinking of it then everyone gets what they want.”

“But then that doesn’t punish people who deserve it,” Frank says crossing his arms over his chest he continues, “Like what about Hitler, if he thinks he deserves Heaven than that’s what he gets, but that dude definitely deserves Hell.”

“That is true.”

Ray says in agreement ever the voice of reason already. Gerard presses his lips together and thinks for a long moment in the dull drip of the passing of time. Time is strange in hospitals, it just drags on and on, days blur into weeks into months, and suddenly you’ve been there for a year. Not this time though, it’s only been a week but already he feels like he’s known everyone for years.

“What does it matter though? Do they have to get justice in the afterlife, or is that just because we want death to mean something.”

“Oh, we getting philosophical tonight?”

Frank shoots back with a giggle Gerard shrugs. Why not?

“I mean truly evil people shouldn’t go to Heaven just because they believe they should.”

Ray says fingers clenching in the blankets at his side.

“That’s fair.”

Gerard replies and tilts his head, he misses the weight of his hair. Now it’s short and pale, he feels like paper, too luminous, too bright, a ghost. He hasn’t glanced at a mirror in a month and he isn’t sure he wants to see death creeping steadily over his features.

He glances at Mikey, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the beep of his heart monitor steady. Where would Mikey go? That’s a question he wants to know an answer to, or maybe create an answer for just to satisfy himself.

“What about, when you die, you’re greeted by your fondest memory and like you can choose to stay or move on?”

“Move on to where?”

Bob asks with a grunt staring resolutely at the tv like he’s pretending he’s not part of the conversation.

“Whatever you believe, but like maybe your fond memory judges you or guides you to where you should be.”

“That’s not a bad afterlife.”

Ray replies fingers tapping a steady beat on the edge of his bed. Frank tilts his head and squints at Gerard for a moment before he adds, “I don’t know that sounds kind of lonely.”

“But if your fondest memory includes your family you could meet them there.”

Gerard protests and he can see it in his mind. This city of the dead, or maybe just changing scenery people reuniting in fields, or maybe its triumphant moments, scoring the last goal, finishing that painting you could never finish, dancing with your unrequited love.

“What would yours be Gerard?”

Ray asks breaking through the drifting trails of his thoughts. His fingers itch to put something to paper, lyrics or maybe drawings but there’s nothing.

He thinks about Ray’s question, he hasn’t done much, not really, never had the chance. But a fond memory? He should be able to scrounge one up, he glances at Mikey and knows with a kind of certainty what memory he would want.

“When we were kids, our dad would take me and Mikey to see this marching band. There’s something about a marching band you know? When they’re all playing together, working together and they’re doing a hopeful piece or like if they’re doing a sad piece. It was a time before everything went bad, I guess.”

“That’d be pretty cool. Being greeted by this whole parade, and it could have like floats and people who were part of your life.”

Frank replies bouncing a bit in the hospital bed and he looks open to the idea, excited like he can picture it and Gerard loves it, loves seeing an idea come to life for others. Shifting in aching bones he glances at Frank and asks, “What would your fondest memory be Frankie?”

“Dude that’s hard to pick just one. But I guess the first show I ever played, man our band sucked and I was crap but the energy of the crowd, my dad and my gramps were watching, and I think that was the first time I found myself.”

Gerard smiles softly and can just picture a young Frank, with like a horrible haircut, thrashing about on stage, and a crowd of kids in the pit that don’t care if the music’s crap as long as it moves you. He’s been at shows like that, been on stage once or twice, but yeah, he can see why.

“What about you Bob?”

Frank asks and they all stare at Bob, who rolls his eyes, and replies, “Probably the last show I played before I got burned. I was doing sound at the front but it was good, it's close in my memory too.”

“Aw, no heartfelt birthdays?”

“Shut up you literally said the first time you played in front of an audience.”

Bob shot back and Frank maturely stuck out his tongue at Bob and with a bounce turns to Ray and asks, “What about you Toro?”

“Probably the first guitar I ever got. It was my brother’s and he taught me the basic chords. That or the first time I played Master of Puppets.”

“You’re a metalhead Toro?”

Frank asks puffing out his chest like he’s about to jump out of the hospital bed and fight a dude who’s blind. He just might too Gerard thinks.

“Got a problem with that Iero?”

Ray retorts but he’s grinning, a wide grin. Frank tilts his head up and replies in a snooty accent, “As a someone who likes punk, yes.”

“No fighting in the hospital room.”

Bob states, he crosses his arms over his chest and for a moment looks intimidating enough to give Gerard pause. Frank frown and replies, “Aw not even a little bit?”

Bob is unamused. Ray huffs a bite of laughter and says, “I think your idea is pretty cool Gerard.”

He smiles and nods before glancing at Mikey, a part of him wants to see Mikey in that strange afterlife at some parade with a marching band. Gerard flops back into bed and studies the ceiling, the wretched sound of Frank coughing fills the room for a moment before its silent but for the hospital drone. Maybe your afterlife is what you make it.

X

_These darker days will never get me down. Gotta break, wipe that smile right off your face_

Brian, the head nurse for their ward, somehow convinces the higher-ups that a projector will help their mental state, or maybe that it will distract them from the boring agony of dying. Bob usually hogs the tv but this time they go about it in a democratic fashion and the original Dracula wins.

Gerard leans against the bed and watches as the vampire sweeps through the room, all black and white contrast. He glances around him, Ray has been pushed up ever so slightly, he can’t see but he seems pleased enough at the sounds blasting through the room. Bob looks sullen that they’re not watching Monty Python like he voted for but Gerard can tell he’s enjoying it even if he’s trying to hide it. Frank can’t stop grinning his eyes follow the screen like a puppy back and forth and he’s soaking it all up like a sponge. It’s also like the hundredth time Frank has watched the movie apparently. Gerard, not to brag, has seen it at least one hundred and one times.

Mikey is still, face peaceful in sleep and limbs lax and loose but Gerard wants to imagine that somewhere in his brother’s subconscious he’s fighting vampires. Fighting bad copies of Dracula in white and black but Mikey’s all colour.

“Psst Gerard.”

Frank’s voice echoes through the room too loud for all he tries to whisper, tries being the keyword; Gerard has the feeling that Frank isn’t a quiet person. Gerard glances at Frank, who lights up and continues, “You here Brian’s trying to push for us to go outside?”

“What like in that tiny garden with the sad trees?”

Gerard asks and ignores Bob’s mutinous glare. Frank nods, like a bobblehead, and continues, “Yeah but it's supposed to be sunny tomorrow! I haven’t felt the sun in months that does things to a guy.”

“What are we plants Frank?”

Ray asks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly with a laughing grin. Frank sticks out his tongue but before he can reply Bob says, “Actually sort of, vitamin d and all that.”

“See Bob says I’m right, need that vitamin D baby.”

Frank crows puffing out his chest in a frankly ridiculous manner. Gerard can’t help the giggle that trickles from his lips and Ray is huffing a laugh too. It has been a while, enough that Gerard can’t really remember the feel of the breeze through his hair, or the taste of rain in the air. It’s a depressing thought and Gerard shoves it aside.

“Might be hard for some of us to break out.”

Gerard supplies as he glances at Mikey for a long moment and then at Ray and Bob; who next to Mikey definitely can’t walk. Gerard can walk a few steps, but his body’s weak and he needs a cane if he wants to get anywhere. With all the energy Frank has it looks like he could jump right out of his bed, like Charlie’s grandpa in that Chocolate Factory movie, but apparently, he’s on bed rest.

“That’s true.”

Ray acknowledges and his voice is heavy his fingers twitching over the covers. Frank frowns for a long moment stroking the hair he doesn’t have on his chin before he brightens and replies, “Wheelchairs!”

“We can be a parade of wheelchairs.”

Gerard replies with a grin and Frank smiles blindingly at him. Bob huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he replies, “We’d look like idiots.”

“Probably but at least we’d get to go outside.”

Frank replies as Dracula hovers over the sleeping lady. Gerard watches for a long moment before he flings his attention back to the room, its settled into silence but there’s question burning and bubbling its way through his chest; that could be the cancer too.

“Do you guys have anyone you’re leaving behind?”

Gerard asks as he plays with the sheets. The air isn’t really light anymore but it's still comfortable, it feels like there’s nothing they can’t talk about anymore. Sometimes it feels as if he’s known them all his life.

“My brother, my mom and my dad but that’s it.”

Ray replies first staring determinedly at the projector even though he can’t see anything. Bob grunts and replies, “My mom.”

“My family. What about you Gerard?”

“Depends on who goes first between Mikey and I, but my mom and my dad. I guess though the second question is are you leaving something behind? Not like material possessions but like an impact? Do you think we leave an imprint?”

“G Way you are one deep motherfucker,” Franks says with a laugh breaking some of the tension before he continues, “But man I think none of us left an impact like Einstein or something. None of us are famous or like going to impact history. We’ll just be footnotes in obituaries ya know?”

“We’ll only be remembered by our families and friends, when they’re gone so are, we.”

Ray adds his high voice is barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. Gerard thinks about it for a minute before he continues, “That fine print obituary is still a mark, the plane crash, veteran statistics, all that is still a mark.”

“But does it matter?”

Bob replies with a grunt. Gerard purses his lips feeling alive again just a little bit and replies, “Does it have to matter? Do we need to leave a mark before we die?”

“If not, then what does matter?”

Frank asks genuinely curious. Gerard glances at the ceiling for a long moment turning the words over in his head. Is he arguing just to argue a point or does he believe what he’s saying? What does he believe?

“I think it’s about the people you interact with. In a hundred years none of it will matter, in a thousand humans might not even inhabit the earth. But if you impact your family, your friends, then maybe that’s what matters.”

“The power of friendship.”

Ray says sagely and Frank nods in agreement with a stoner giggle splitting his serious façade a moment later. Maybe he’s talking shit but it's nice to think about. Bob scoffs and Gerard can see him rolling his eyes but he doesn’t care.

“Then I guess I’m glad I got to meet you guys, cause it means something to me.”

Gerard replies and he knows it’s sentimental and stupid but it’s true. Frank smiles, it's softer than his wide grins, Ray is also smiling as he says, “Yeah I’m glad we all got to meet each other. If I’m going to die, I at least know I met you guys.”

“Seconded.”

Frank adds with a nod and stares at Bob until he grunts and nods. Gerard glances at Mikey and wishes he could speak could say that maybe he believed the same things. But he’s silent just the rise and fall of his chest.

The credits for the movie began to roll over the projector and Bob opens his mouth.

“Who votes for a Lord of the Rings marathon?”

Everyone’s hands go up except for Bob who frowns mutinously. Gerard cheers with Frank and sits back against the gurney, yeah, he’s glad he met these guys.

X

_And you can sleep in a coffin but the past ain’t through with you_

Bob is the first to go.

About a day before they can all tell. It goes real silent in their ward, and they all get jittery as fuck, Frank’s the worst though. He’ll pick up his book and stare at the same page for an hour before he’ll put it down silently and stare at Bob. Ray won’t stop twitching even though it's obviously painful. Gerard can’t handle the waiting, he thinks its maybe the worst part as his fingers twitch to write to draw, but he’s in pain; always in pain these days.

Bob goes pale as the day drags on, his skin gets feverish and he doesn’t scowl at Frank when he tries to insinuate that the nurse is totally hitting on him. They all watch, that’s all they can do. They’re powerless and Gerard hates it with a passion.

He had known the moment they wheeled him in that it was the terminal ward but Gerard couldn’t have stopped himself from getting attached if he tried. And now Bob’s going to die and he’s not prepared for it. Probably won’t ever be. He wishes that they could have more time, that it doesn’t have to be over so soon. But he can’t do anything, he’s powerless.

It fucking sucks.

He’s not ready to watch these guys, who’ve become like family in the short time he’s known them, he’s not ready to watch them die. Or for them to watch him die.

“Bob.”

Frank breaks the fragile silence staring at Bob with those big brown eyes of his. Gerard looks at Bob, who was staring at the tv but is now glaring at the rest of them as he replies, “Don’t fucking start with a pity party. We all knew this was going to happen.”

“That doesn’t mean we aren’t sad dude.”

Ray says quietly he’s shifting again so that he’s looking in Bob’s general direction. Bob grunts, he looks weak, like death is this cloud just hovering over him, taking a little bit of his life with each breath. Bob rolls his eyes and replies, “Sides it’ll probably be better once I’m dead, I won’t have to listen to you bitch about the patriarchy.”

It’s a weak attempt at humour but it forces a crackly laugh out of Gerard’s throat nonetheless. Frank frowns, the expression is serious as he asks, “Better?”

“Idiot at least when you’re dead there’s no pain.”

Frank’s face clears a little bit but he still looks like a kicked puppy. Bob notices and for all of his gruff countenance he’s a softy on the inside, the lines on his face are deep with pain but he grunts and says, “I’ll probably go to some weird afterlife now cause of you guys.”

“Oh, what about Mr. Bean? Except you are him and you can’t really talk except for the weird thing he does.”

Frank suggests bouncing a bit again but the words, which sound light, are dark. Bob looks to the ceiling like it might provide an answer before he rolls his eyes again and replied, “That sounds closer to a nightmare. I’ll miss you guys.”

It’s an unsaid farewell, because they have no fucking way of knowing what comes after. Unless you believe in those cheap Christian movies; Gerard always found them a bit funny. Maybe he’ll go to Hell for that.

Frank’s face falls and with that the atmosphere of the room becomes thick and stifling.

Silence descends and Gerard can’t find the words to break it as the hours tick by. There’s an emergency on the third level which sends a bunch of feet running past their door, Mikey’s heart rate monitor beeps steadily and he spends a long time just memorizing the shape of his face.

Bob gets worse and worse, his breathing becomes deep and laboured, his skin flushed and yet pale, he looks likes he’s in pain. Gerard wouldn’t fucking wish this on anyone. As the day fades into evening, one of the nurses, Tracy, comes into the room and she knows as soon as they do because she presses a kiss to Bob’s forehead when she leaves to get the doctor.

They have family but no one can make it. Its just the five of them.

Bob dies at eight thirty, he takes a last shuddering breath and then the monitor beeps into silence and he’s gone. The doctor comes in a few seconds later but Gerard can only watch in dull shock as he checks his pulse says that Bob’s gone.

Gerard’s eyes burn, his throat feels clogged, and he can’t breathe. Frank is crying, sobbing actually, hunched over into a tiny ball with his arms wrapped around his legs. Ray is shaking and Gerard can see his lips pressed into a thin line.

He watches as they pull the sheet over Bob’s head and the tears burn their way through his system and down his cheeks. He wants to reach out, touch the last remnants of warmth but he can’t because Bob’s already gone, down to a stone-cold morgue, cause he’s just a body now.

Fuck. Fuck!

Time seems to stretch on, dragging its way across the floor as they stare at each other and try to avoid the empty space that’s so glaringly obvious its like a sword to the stomach. Gerard wipes away angrily at the tears on his cheeks and sniffs as Frank slowly uncurls and Ray stops shaking. The world feels cold and unreal. The only thing tangible is the pain, the ache of his body trying to function when its at war with itself.

Sometime, anytime, later the door opens and Brian steps inside. He stares at the four of them with a grim expression before he places a bag on the table and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and some cheap red cups; it’s what Bob would have wanted. He pours out each amount carefully and hands a cup to Frank, whispers to Ray what it is as he places it in his hands, before finally, Gerard gets one.

He holds the cup in his hands and stares at the almost golden liquid in the cup, in the half-lights of the hospital, it’s almost dark, murky. Frank stares at his cup for a moment before he tips it back and says quietly, “To Bob, hopefully, he’s up there with Mr. Bean.”

“Mr. Bean’s not dead.”

Rays says and his voice is full of tremors as he carefully sips at the whisky like its juice and he’s a kid. Frank pouts, the expression fractures, and replies, “Yeah but like maybe his fondest memory is Mr. Bean. I don’t get it but that is… was his thing ya know?”

“Yeah, but his other stuff was good, like the We are not amused bit. To Bob, that son of a bitch from Chicago.”

Gerard toasts and tips the whiskey back; it burns all the way down but more than he’s already burning up inside. Brian goes around and refills their cups before with a wink he tilts the bottle back and takes a sip himself. 

Bob’s gone. His glares and his threats to pummel Frank if he could stand. Gone. That whole space, the impact, the imprint is gone.

Gerard feels sick.

X

_Sometimes, you scrape and sink so low I’m shocked at what you’re capable of_

Mikey is next.

Gerard’s not really sure what wakes him up, that silent feel that someone’s called his name, there’s remnants of a nightmare clinging to his subconscious and whispering, he feels paralyzed, stiff already with death. Gerard glances around the room. It’s morning, or he thinks it is, early in the morning just the first touches of light washing everything in grey but already, always, the hospital is awake.

The others are awake too he thinks. Sleep is hard more often than not, and they spend their nights sometimes just listening to each other breathing, the soft rasp and shift of covers and to thin blankets, mourning that missing person.

In that grey light, Frank and Ray are like ghosts in the snow, shadows of white with only the pale tones of their hair against the sheets. Gerard glances at Mikey.

He’s pale, paler than yesterday like all the colour’s been leached from his skin.

Something scrapes at Gerard’s chest as he throws aside the sheets and steps onto the floor. Its cold against his bare feet, seeping through the soles of his feet up his calves and all the way up to his heart as he stumbles forward to lean against Mikey’s hospital gurney.

He watches with wide eyes; the heart monitor is beginning to slow.

“No, please no.”

Gerard whispers, begs, as he reaches out to rest his fingers on Mikey’s cheek. It’s cold, it should be warm, Mikey always runs cold but he’s never like this. Oh god. Please no. Gerard sucks in a heaving breath he can hear something beeping in the background and the shift of sheets but all he can focus on is the cold metal of the gurney digging into his side, Mikey’s skin cold beneath his fingers and the heartrate monitor begins to stop.

It flatlines.

No. Please. No. Gerard scrambles for Mikey’s pulse but there’s nothing and he thinks it can’t be like this. This silence, because Mikey isn’t silent, he’s full of quiet words and secretive gestures but not this silence with no last words and the only memory he has of him awake is standing at Gerard’s bed with a fire in his eyes saying he’s going to enlist. He’s gone and he never got to say goodbye, never got to tell him how much he loved him, or how he was thankful to have him as a brother. He’s gone. Gone.

There’s a nurse trying to pull him away, the doctor is checking Mikey’s pulse.

He can’t. Can’t leave Mikey alone. He promised he would never leave him alone. They can’t take him away. They can’t.

Please try something. Please wake up. Please.

They pull the sheets over his head.

Someone’s screaming Mikey’s name. It’s him.

The nurse wrestles him into his own bed, it's not hard with how weak he is, and he watches as they take Mikey away.

He’s gone. His little brother is gone. The brother he watched come home from the hospital in his mother’s arms, who he protected in high school, who helped him through addiction, who enlisted just to pay for chemo. He’s gone. Fucking. Gone.

Gerard doesn’t drink anything that night, the tears burn through his body until there’s nothing left and no one says anything.

X

_And if this is a coronation I ain’t feeling the love_

They don’t expect it to be Frank next.

He’s so full of life, eyes bright for all the darkness beneath. But then he goes from okay to bad in a day. Frank coughs blood for an hour straight, the sound is horrible and Gerard can’t help but flinch every time he hears it, watches Frank hunch over and red stains his tattoos.

The doctors come in after an hour, they hook Frank up to an IV and force pills down his throat that stop the coughing but they can all tell its too late, the doctors are grim, and its morphine in the drip, Gerard can just tell.

The room is too empty already with just three of them. The empty spots where Bob and Mikey were is a raw open festering wound that throbs every time, he turns his head and he feels empty of tears already, like a dried-out husk.

“Hey don’t look so glum, I’m getting the good stuff before I go at least.”

Frank says and his voice is slurred, his lips are too red. Ray glances at Frank for a long moment before he replies, “Don’t say that Frankie, you out of all of us probably have the best chance of fighting off death.”

“Yeah, I’d do it with my bare hands.”

Frank replies with a rough laugh and mimes strangling and invisible enemy with the force. Gerard tries to grin but knows the expression is more of a grimace as he asks, “Think death would fight fair?”

“Nah he knows I’m a Jersey bastard and we don’t play fair. It's probably why I’m here with tuberculosis of all things, had to cut me down before I got too big.”

“Frank you already have a pretty big head.”

Ray replies with a shadow of a grin. Frank coughs weakly for a moment and reaches for the cup of water as he replies, “Is that how you talk to a man on his deathbed?”

Their faces fall as Frank takes a sip of water and he notices as he weakly drops the cup onto the side table. Frank sighs and digs his fingers into the sheets for a long moment before he says, “Don’t be gloomy, I’m off to go join Gerard’s weird marching band.”

“You’re gonna join the black parade Frankie?”

“Yeah, hey what did you call it?”

Frank asks and Gerard tilts his head and recalls his words, its fitting, he replies, “Uh the black parade.”

“That sounds badass.”

Ray states and Frank nods some light in his eyes as he says, “Yeah I’ll go play in that sick ass parade, and I won’t have to worry about my shitty immune system.”

“Who’s going to argue with me about punk and metal music?”

Ray asks softly staring in Frank’s direction. Frank reaches his fingers out towards Ray, but they’re too far apart, Frank says, “It’ll be okay Ray, you’ll see.”

“We’ll miss your tiny ass Frank.”

Gerard says trying for light but the words stick in his throat.

“It’s a great ass.”

Frank replies indignantly and Ray starts laughing, Gerard joins in and nods, “Yeah it is Frankie.”

“Thanks guys, you made these last few weeks fun.”

Frank says quietly staring into Gerard’s eyes with a big smile. Its how Gerard chooses to remember him.

An hour later Frank goes still.

Brian brings the alcohol but Gerard can’t taste it as he stares at the empty space where Frank was and dry tears burn his eyes.

X

_So, tell me about your problems I was killing before killing was cool_

Between the two of them its Ray.

They move Ray’s gurney next to his, close enough that Gerard can reach out and grasp Ray’s bandaged fingers light enough that it doesn’t hurt. Ray’s breathing is laboured and his face is scrunched up more often than not in pain but when Gerard holds his hand all that slips away.

“I wish I could have seen everyone’s faces.”

Ray murmurs in the slant of afternoon sunlight, he’s running a fever and his cheeks are flushed red beneath the bandages over his eyes. Gerard glances at the empty room feels the stop-stutter of his heart and says, “Bob had blond hair, a beard and a lip piercing he kind of looked like a red neck, and he had a mean glare. Frank had this ugly but awesome two-toned mohawk, it was black and blond, he had a lip piercing and these big brown eyes, like a puppy. Mikey was thin, and he wore these dorky glasses with his bangs in his face.”

It hurts, to talk about them like they’re gone when a week ago they were all together; alive, laughing, breathing. Now they’re gone. And they’re alone.

“Funny how you can summarize someone like that.”

Ray says thinking the same thoughts as Gerard, he nods before he remembers Ray can’t see it and makes a sound of agreement. Ray turns to face Gerard and asks, “What about you?”

Gerard is weak, his body has all but shut down, but he can do this. Gerard heaves himself out of the gurney and with slow steps sits on the edge of Ray’s bed. He reaches out and grasps Ray’s hands and places them on his cheeks. Ray smiles soft and wide like the sun in the morning as his fingers, wrapped in bandages, slowly glide over his features, the jut of his nose, his eyelids and eyebrows, his lips.

“What colour’s your hair?”

“It’s almost all gone, it’s got no colour, just pale white. I look freaky, like some underwater creature.”

“I think you look great.”

Ray jokes his fingers passing over Gerard’s cheeks one more time with finality as Gerard shivers and stares at the curls of Ray’s hair. Gerard grasps Ray’s hand in his, fingers hovering over his wrists as he says quietly, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.”

Ray replies softly and his hand closes over Gerard’s as Ray stares sightlessly into the distance before he continues, “But this isn’t living, not for any of us. I think it will be better after.”

“When we all join the black parade?”

“Yeah, we can all play together and none of us will be in pain.”

“That would be nice.”

Gerard agrees and stares at Ray pressing the image of his friend into his mind. His chest feels tight but the rest of him feels half-melted ready to drip away, like everything that is him is ready to bleed away. Ray grimaces in pain lips pressed together into a white line for a long moment before he says in a rough voice, “I had a feeling before I got on the plane you know? Like when you know the day’s going to go wrong. I should have stayed home. But then I never would have met you guys.”

“Guess in the end it all happens for a reason.”

Gerard replies quietly and he focuses on the sound of their breathing filling the hospital air. It could have been so different; he could have died utterly alone. Maybe in a different life he had a girlfriend who would miss him, maybe in another life none of them died. But at least they had died with each other.

He holds Ray’s hand till it goes lax and his breathing evens out until it’s still. He presses a kiss to Ray’s forehead and crawls into his own gurney. He and Brian are the only ones left to toast them and he feels achingly empty inside. He’s alone again.

X

_‘Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends, and we all get together when we bury our friends_

Gerard knows it’s his turn the next morning, its this tangible feeling weighing on his chest. His whole body is sore and he feels weak, weaker than he’s ever been, like even moving his fingers takes too much energy, like breathing is too much work.

He stares at the ceiling because he can’t stare at the empty room, this room that’s too big without them and he waits.

It's hard to wait, to wait for such an unknown thing. Hours tick by and he can feel the pain consume him like poison but it's quickly followed by a dull numbness as everything gets fuzzy around the edges. Gerard stares at the ceiling one last time before he closes his eyes.

Gerard dies.

X

_We’ll carry on and though you’re dead and gone believe me, your memory will carry on._

Gerard opens his eyes.

There is no pain, nothing, a grey nothingness surrounds him. Gerard stares at the nothing and waits, staring at his hands, the black around his wrists, and waits

It appears slowly in the distance.

First the grind of footsteps into the grey sand of the ground. Then the creep of darkness at the edge of his vision around invisible walls, through desolate streets and blown-out shells of buildings. The music fills the air, swelling, growing but still incomplete. Familiar.

Gerard rises to his feet and stares forward as the blurry shapes in the distance resolve themselves. It’s a parade float, roses like blood on the front and a line of people stretching endlessly into the distance, familiar and unknown faces in a crowd, all macabre in shades of grey and black.

The figures on the float are blurry but as it draws closer, they begin to sharpen.

The float stops in front of Gerard, the music halts. He stares up at the four of them.

Bob is on the drums, the uniform emblazoned across his chest as he begins to find the beat. Mikey, a medal pinned to his chest and a bass guitar in his arms smiles at him, that small secretive smile as beside him Frank grins and bounces on his feet holding his guitar with careful fingers. Ray steps forward, his guitar at his side and his eyes are brown and kind as he extends a hand. Gerard steps forward and with a smile is tugged onto the float.

Gerard walks forward to the microphone and wraps his fingers around it. The parade begins to grind forward, he glances at the four of them, his fucking brothers, this is right. Gerard faces forward and opens his mouth as the music begins to play.

_Do or die you’ll never make me because the world will never take my heart._

X

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Again, I’m sorry, but it had to be written, I struggled with this fic because of how emotional it is, I cried while writing Mikey’s death scene (I have a younger sibling) so I hope you all enjoyed this or at least cried too. Reviews/comments are always appreciated, thank you!


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